


things will never be the same

by tamquams



Category: Six of Crows Series - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon Compliant, M/M, Post-Canon, jesper has the emotional stability today, sad wylan :(, well.... as much as jesper can possibly have emotional stability
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:13:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23114488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tamquams/pseuds/tamquams
Summary: Something between a sigh and a groan escaped Wylan’s lips, and his eyes were still glassy. He let go of Jesper’s hand and seemed to curl in on himself slightly, pulling the blanket tighter around his slender frame, before deliberately looking away from Jesper. “I thought it would be me, you know.”A pause.“Thought what would be you?” prompted Jesper, eyebrow raised.
Relationships: Jesper Fahey/Wylan Van Eck
Comments: 27
Kudos: 235





	things will never be the same

**Author's Note:**

> once upon a time, this was the second chapter of a multi-chap fic i was working on and ended up deleting because i hated it. i didn't really have a problem with this chapter in particular, though, and it can stand alone just fine, so here you go! hope you like it :)

Jesper was not exactly an “early to bed, early to rise,” sort of guy. He very much preferred staying up all hours of the night and then waking up around twelve bells, especially in the week since the auction. Sleepy kisses and warm touches were his favorite part of the day, and he honestly couldn’t imagine anything so perfect as waking up next to Wylan. 

So of course he was disappointed when he woke up to an empty bed.

“Wy?” he murmured, reaching out a deep brown hand to feel the empty space beside him. The sheet and blankets were pulled up on Wylan’s side of the bed, the pillow fluffed and straightened against the headboard, and the mattress was cold, as if the boy hadn’t been there in quite a while. “Wylan?” Jesper called out a bit louder, but it was met with the same unnerving silence as his first question.

The sunlight streaming through the gap between the curtains was golden with a twinge of pink. Dawn had barely broken, and yet Wylan, who was just as lazy in the mornings as Jesper, was nowhere to be found. How long had he been gone? What could he possibly be doing?

Jesper shivered slightly as he climbed out of bed, wincing as his feet hit the cold wooden floor. They had been so drunk last night that neither of them had even considered lighting a fire in the fireplace, and the icy air assaulted the Zemeni’s bare skin as he picked up the pants he had discarded the night before and stepped back into them. He quickly pulled on some socks and a sweater, then set off down the hallway to find his boyfriend.

The master bedroom was empty, as were the other guest bedrooms and Wylan’s old room, which was now the ghost of a nursery. The washrooms were empty too, and the study, which still had a rather large hole in the middle of the floor. Jesper worked his way downstairs, but upon checking the parlor, dining room, and music room, still could find absolutely no sign of the missing boy.

Finally, in a near panic, Jesper slid into the kitchen, but a quick glance around the shiny room told him that he wouldn’t find Wylan here, either. His heart was beginning to beat furiously in his chest as he leaned against the counter, considering all the horrible things that might’ve happened to the younger boy. He might’ve gone for a walk and been attacked, or maybe someone broke into the house and kidnapped him. Or maybe the house was too haunted for him and he had simply left.

Trying to steady his breathing, Jesper moved toward the back door. Maybe some fresh air would help him calm down. He reached for the doorknob, his hand clasping the cool metal, and then his eyes widened. The door was unlocked.

Suddenly, every instinct he had told Jesper to run. This couldn’t be good. This couldn’t end well. There were a thousand reasons for the door to be unlocked, each of them worse than the last, but instead of running upstairs to grab his guns, he found himself opening the door anyway. He was on Wylan’s trail, and he needed to find the boy as soon as humanly possible.

That, it turned out, was easier than he expected it to be, and safer, too. Because Wylan Van Eck was sitting alone atop the back wall of the estate. Not dead, not kidnapped. Safe. Facing the sunrise. Light was catching in his curls, a perfect red-gold halo around his head. A wool blanket was wrapped around his shoulders, and he didn’t seem to hear Jesper approach.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you, merchling,” the taller boy said as he pulled himself up beside his boyfriend. He had expected a smile in return, at least a blush, but when he looked at Wylan, he saw a few tears streaming down his face instead.

“Saints, Wy, are you crying?” he asked, and was immediately met with the stupidity of the question. _Of course_ he’s crying. Jesper fumbled, trying to find the right words. “What’s- What’s wrong?”

The blond immediately had his hands on his face, trying to wipe the tears away. “No, no, I’m fine,” he said before Jesper had even fully gotten his question out, an uneasy smile playing at his lips. He rubbed his eyes roughly. “I’m fine, sorry, just couldn’t sleep.” 

Jesper furrowed his brows at the boy. “You don’t have to be embarrassed,” he said, reaching out to take his boyfriend’s hand. “You can talk to me. You know that, right?”

“Of course,” said Wylan with a squeeze of his hand. “Yeah, of course. But I’m okay. I’m just- I’m okay.”

“No, you’re not, and that’s alright. Talk to me, Wy. I’m right here.”

Something between a sigh and a groan escaped Wylan’s lips, and his eyes were still glassy. He let go of Jesper’s hand and seemed to curl in on himself slightly, pulling the blanket tighter around his slender frame, before deliberately looking away from Jesper. “I thought it would be me, you know.”

A pause.

“Thought what would be you?” prompted Jesper, eyebrow raised.

“That died. If anyone had to die, you know, I thought it would be me. Not Matthias.” The vulnerability in Wylan’s words was stunning. His voice wasn’t shaking, but the steadiness that had been there during their first kiss was unquestioningly gone. It had been replaced by something insecure, something terrified, something broken. It had been replaced by grief.

“Why would you think that?” Jesper asked, voice very quiet.

“We were all in danger,” Wylan said weakly, biting his lip as he stared hard into the sunrise. “But I— the plan was for me to be _captured_. Given to my _father_. What if he hadn’t had me questioned? What if he had decided to just save himself the trouble and kill me?”

The way Wylan’s voice caught at the end of his sentence broke Jesper into a million pieces. “He couldn’t,” the Zemeni said. “You’re his son. His flesh and blood. He couldn’t.”

“Do you know why I came to the Barrel?” Wylan’s voice was suddenly dry, angry. “I didn’t run away from home because my dad thought I was stupid, Jesper. I didn’t run away at all. He tried to have me _killed_.”

Something hotter than rage burned through Jesper’s chest. He had always thought the phrase ‘seeing red’ was a metaphor or an exaggeration, but he was forced to rethink that as his vision flashed a deep crimson. His voice was a brushfire as he said “He what?”

Wylan was looking at him now, his voice furious, his eyes devastated. “He told me he was sending me to music school, but when I got on the boat, the two men he sent as my ‘guards’ tried to kill me. So I jumped overboard, swam back to Ketterdam, and ran until I found myself under the one rock my father wouldn’t overturn in his quest to find me.” The bitterness in his voice in no way matched the heartbreak written across his face. Jesper couldn’t think straight. He couldn’t get the image out of his head of this beautiful, brilliant boy crawling out of the harbor, seeking safety in the most dangerous place he could find. 

Saints, Jesper was going to go to Hellgate and spell _DEMON_ across Van Eck’s chest with bullets.

“Wy,” he said softly, unsure of what words should possibly follow that story. “I— I’m sorry.”

Wylan gave a sharp laugh. “Don’t be,” he said, shrugging, a mask of indifference falling over his pale face. “Not your fault. And, anyway, he got his, right?”

Jesper could only nod. His mind was still racing, images appearing and disappearing faster than a bullet finding its mark. Beautiful Wylan, his lost prince, hands and face and clothes stained every shade of the rainbow that first day at the tannery. How terrified he must have been. How sad. Brilliant Wylan, his fingers flying across his sketchpad as he drew their map of the Ice Court. Acting as if everything was alright, pretending he was just a rebellious teenager rather than the victim of his father’s needless rage. Steady Wylan, leading Jesper and his father through the passage at the university and getting them home safely. So calm in the face of danger. The face of death. He reflected back on the day that they left for the Ice Court job, the ambush at the harbor. The panic on Wylan’s face as bullets just barely passed them by. That hadn’t been the first time the merchling had escaped death, Jesper thought. It hadn’t been the last. Somewhere between that ambush and the auction, Wylan had made peace with death. Oh, Ghezen, Jesper thought. This boy didn’t doubt for one moment that he would find his death at the hands of his father, directly or otherwise. And he had come to terms with it. There wasn’t a worse thought in the world.

“But Matthias…” Wylan’s voice cut through Jesper’s thoughts abruptly, dragging him back to the present. “Matthias was a soldier. He was brave, and strong, and kind. He should have made it. If any of us deserved to make it, it was Matthias.”

Hell, Jesper couldn’t argue with that. There was really only one person on the crew with less darkness inside of them than Matthias, and it was…

“Wylan,” said Jesper slowly, giving each word the weight it deserved. “You did not deserve to survive any less than Matthias.”

At that, Wylan blinked, once, twice. The mask slipped for a moment, but then he shook his head. “I didn’t say that.” His voice was unnecessarily defensive. “I just— It shouldn’t have been him.”

“It shouldn’t have been any of us,” Jesper said with a sigh. “Not him, definitely not you. You said it yourself: we were all supposed to make it.” He reached out and took Wylan’s hand in his once more, and this time the blond leaned toward him, resting his head lightly on the taller boy’s shoulders. 

“I’m glad you’re alive,” Jesper whispered, his lips brushing against his boyfriend’s soft curls. “I’m so glad you’re alive. I don’t know what I would have done…” His voice trailed off nervously. He couldn’t even bear to make himself think it, let alone say it. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” said the merchling softly. “And I’m glad you’re alive, too. You’re…”

Jesper drew an arm around the younger boy protectively. “I’m what?”

Wylan cleared his throat. “You’re the first good thing to happen to me in a very long time,” he said shyly.

Jesper couldn’t help but grin. “Who, me?” he laughed lightly. “What about the others? Inej, perhaps? She’s a very sweet girl, you know.” He swore he could _feel_ Wylan roll his eyes.

“You’re all the best things I have. But you… You were the first to show up. That day, in the tannery. That evening, when you led me to the warehouse. You brought me into this world.” 

Jesper had never been one for soft or tender. He liked things rough, he liked them sharp, he liked them dangerous. He liked dark alleys and deep bruises and the burn of a bullet just grazing his flesh. He liked running until his knees gave out and his lungs screamed at him to stop. He never thought that vulnerability and trust and love were for him, but, well. Here he was. Sitting on this wall, holding this boy, heart fluttering madly in his chest like a butterfly in a jar. To stay like this forever… He’d never gamble again. He’d throw his beloved revolvers into the harbor. He’d wear a black mercher’s suit and attend boring meetings and talk about the market every day for the rest of his damn life. He’d do anything, anything, _anything_ to keep Wylan in his arms until the end of time.

“Best thing I ever did,” Jesper said.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! i hope you enjoyed :) as always, you're more than welcome to come interact with me on tumblr, i'm @wespers :) p.s. title comes from daylight by taylor swift!


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